


Art Isn’t Dead. It’s You.

by DonutArtist11



Category: Bo Burnham - Fandom
Genre: Bo Burnham x reader, Can’t handle this, Country song (pandering), F/M, First meet fic, Left Brain/Right Brain - Freeform, We think we know you, bo burnham x you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 06:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17740958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonutArtist11/pseuds/DonutArtist11
Summary: Bo’s mind seems to quiet around you.He thinks you might be good for him.





	Art Isn’t Dead. It’s You.

Stupid anxiety.

These were supposed to be the best years of his life.

Stupid fucking brain.

He was famous. He was literally famous.

Stupid fucking fuck-up, can’t even stay calm for one fucking second.

He motioned to the bartender for another shot of tequila.

Do you know how many people would kill to be in your spot? You don’t deserve this. You’re ungrateful. You’re selfish.

It was set down in front of him.

You’re not doing anything to change the world, because what the hell does pretending to jerk off on stage contribute to anyone-

He knocked it back, exhaling as the fire of the alcohol blazed down his throat. He didn’t noticed a body had filled the empty space of the bar next to him, too lost in his own head. He glanced up and found you leaning past the counter to order over the thumping beats.

Your dress was riding up your thighs.  
For fucks sake, Bo. Can you not be such a fucking creep?

He tore away his gaze as quickly as he could, but not before you noticed. His cheeks were flushed— whether it be from embarrassment or his lessening sobriety, he couldn’t really tell.  
After a few moments had passed, he dared to glance back up at your face, just to make sure you weren’t bothered by the weird man staring at you.

But you weren’t bothered. In fact, it was almost like you had enjoyed it. Not that it’s right to stare at women who are just trying to live their lives, but... because when he looked back up, you were still looking at him. Holding his gaze. You smiled, offering your hand to shake, and introduced yourself.

“Bo,” he returned, his brain fuzzy from the alcohol.

“Who are you here with tonight, Bo? Girlfriend?”

He blinked. You were asking if he was single. “No.”

“Boyfriend?”

“It’s— it’s just me.” 

“Well that doesn’t seem so bad.”

He performed as an overconfident douche for a living, but that’s never translated into his real life. You flustered him.

Clearing his throat, he asked in a moment of bravery, “What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Are you here with anyone?” he clarified.

“Oh, I’m with a couple of my friends. Girl’s night,” you explained, before adding, “...not that there are any guys to intrude, anyway.”

Okay, you were definitely flirting with him. Before he had a chance to reply, though, two blue-tinted drinks were sat on the counter in front of you.  
“Jesus, what is that?” he joked.

“It’s called a Moose Bowl— it’s the state drink of Kansas. Where my friend is from. But, I’ll admit, she has me hooked.”

“What the hell is it made of? Besides pure chemicals, I mean.”

“That’s the thing,” you leaned against the bar with both drinks in your hand. “Nobody really knows.”

“And you’re sure it’s safe?”

“God no. I’m pretty sure the tag line is, “a well-mixed concoction for regrettable decisions and an almost surefire recipe for disaster.” It’s something you drink when you’re trying to get laid.”

His eyebrows raised at your bluntness. “Wow, you really don’t hold back.”

“Can’t say this is the first Moose Bowl I’ve had tonight.” You laughed as you took a sip. He liked your laugh. “Will I see you on the dance floor tonight, Bo?”

He shrugged. “I’m not really the dancing type.”  
“Oh, come on.”

“No, I’m serious! Do you see these limbs? I’m all gangly and awkward.”

“That’s just an excuse,” you said, rolling your eyes. “There’s always at least one song someone will dance to. What’s yours?”

Did you want to dance with him? “Well, if I had to pick one... I guess, like, Mambo No. 5? By Lou Bega?”

You hummed in thought before nodding. “Good choice. I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that, you winked, and you were gone.

The night continued regularly enough. He sat alone at a bar, scrolling through his social media and watching the dancing masses of people as he nursed his drink.

And, on more than one occasion, he found himself looking for you.

He didn’t know what he would do if he actually spotted you. It was “Girl’s Night” after all. And he didn’t know why the disappointment flushed over him like it did when he didn’t find anything. You barely even know her, Bo. Calm the fuck down.  
After many more failed attempts and a few more drinks, he picked up his jacket and finally made a move to leave. But then he stopped.

“One, two, three four five...”

He looked up when he heard the lyrics, finding your face almost immediately after. You pushed past the crowd to where he stood, holding out your hand with a shrug.

“Hey, you basically promised.”

He rolled his eyes but his heart was burning as you to lead him to the center of the crowd.  
He had to admit, your energy was contagious. You obnoxiously yelled the lyrics as your body bounced to the rhythm. He didn’t know if it was you or the alcohol, but soon he joined in, laughing and singing and bopping as you cheered him on.  
Once the final note rang out, you stopped and smiled at him. Warmth radiated throughout his body as he mirrored your expression, chest heaving.

In fiction they always treat a moment like this as if it was revolutionary. Time would slow down, it would feel right, and the two of you would just... know. And before now, before you, he had never really bought it. But suddenly you were leaning in, and his heart leapt as he realized what was about to happen. He closed his eyes...

“Babe!” a voice interrupted. He opened them again and saw another girl talking to you. He noticed you weren’t standing as close anymore. “Come with me.”

She dragged you to the edge of the dance floor, him following, before she continued.  
“I’ve been looking all over for you! Jaclyn’s puking her guts out in the bathroom.”

“Oh my god, is she okay?”

“We think she just had too much to drink, but we’re going to go take her home just to be safe. You coming?”

“Yeah, I just—“ you glanced at Bo. “I’ll meet you out front.” 

The girl nodded and left. You turned to him with an apologetic look on your face. “That’s my ride,” you winced, wringing your hands.

“No, I get it. Go take care of your friend.”

“Thank you so much for understanding.”

“It’s not a problem. Can I, uh...” he took a deep breath. “Can I walk you out, maybe?”

“Yeah,” you blushed. “I’d like that.”

The cold winter air bit him instantly as he stepped onto the sidewalk. You shivered, goosebumps appearing on your exposed arms.

He internally cursed for the clicheness of it all, but he took off his jacket regardless. “Here.”

“What? No, you’ll freeze to death.”

“I’m wearing sleeves and you’re not. A pretty dumb move on your part, though. It is the middle of winter.”

You scoffed and took his jacket, probably just to get him back for his remark. “Not as dumb as your dance moves.”

“You forced me to dance. That’s your own fault.”

Rolling your eyes, you took a more serious tone. “Regardless of how embarrassing it was to be seen with you though, it was nice meeting you. I had fun tonight.”

“I did too,” he replied sincerely. “Would you maybe... want to go out sometime? With me? My friend’s having a party on Friday at 9 and I can give you a ride.”

You smiled. He didn’t know if it was the streetlight or a god given talent, but he could swear you were glowing. “It’s a date.”

The two of you exchanged numbers before your friend called your name from the parking lot. “Hurry up, dumbass! If she pukes in my car you have to pay for the cleaning.”

You turned back to Bo, handing him his jacket. “I have to go. I’ll see you Friday?”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “See you then.”


End file.
